1: Dadada.
I am completely consumed and sore at the moment; a large blister snuggly invited himself into the heel of my left foot. Hello, Mister Blister. What short notice you gave to come and visit the industrial city south of Achilles Tendon! Mr. Blister mocks me with the raise of skin, the howling pain compacted into mere millimeters. Tight vintage sneakers. Button-up polo. Briskly trimmed bangs. My southeast Oriental visage covered in a thin film of sweat. Bad teenage literary devices and too many sentence fragments, little Miss Mary! Damn, it feels good to be seventeen, doesn't it?! You can slap words and sentences together like stealing erotic art and get away with it. Forgive me, for I have truly sinned. Fork me to death with your silver spoon! I speak in adolescent jargon, bizzare and exciting as the DaDaist movement. Rest in peace, Kassak. See ya later, Schwitters.
Ahem. Enough of my rants. I went with Kalie to Saver's today, assisting in her grand search for the perfect pair of saffron heels. Unfortunately, our search was a flop. Fortunately, she mollified her frustration by purchasing a brown blazer and a green shirt. As yes, the pleasures of indulging mechanisms...mmmmmm. You cannot deny that you, too, are an obese prisoner of the tasty, palatable pastries provided by Hedonism Incorporated! Why do you think Adam ate the fruit, anyway? That's right! He was a gluttonous little twit. I leave it to my Catholic cousins in the convent to expound on this theological idea.
I should stop before I become mentally unstable, but I fear it's too late. I have nothing else to say. The factory came to chilling halt. My brain is atrophying as I strenuously type on the keyboard with my frail fingers...mehhhh.....I'm melting....helllp me....!!
Fin.
Ahem. Enough of my rants. I went with Kalie to Saver's today, assisting in her grand search for the perfect pair of saffron heels. Unfortunately, our search was a flop. Fortunately, she mollified her frustration by purchasing a brown blazer and a green shirt. As yes, the pleasures of indulging mechanisms...mmmmmm. You cannot deny that you, too, are an obese prisoner of the tasty, palatable pastries provided by Hedonism Incorporated! Why do you think Adam ate the fruit, anyway? That's right! He was a gluttonous little twit. I leave it to my Catholic cousins in the convent to expound on this theological idea.
I should stop before I become mentally unstable, but I fear it's too late. I have nothing else to say. The factory came to chilling halt. My brain is atrophying as I strenuously type on the keyboard with my frail fingers...mehhhh.....I'm melting....helllp me....!!
Fin.